


Sinking Stones

by SpaceAsthmatic



Series: Stones Series Hobbiet AU [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arguments between friends, Community: au100, Fights, He loves his Ada so much, Hurt/Comfort, Injuried Thrandui, Legolas is a badass, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Super Prince Like Legolas, and has a temper, protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-06-29 21:29:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: Gandalf is brought to the ElvenKings tent after the battle of the five armies but doesn't find at all what he was expecting to.





	1. The Tent

Gandalf was not overly surprised when he and Bilbo were approached by a host of Woodland elves, all heavily armed and looking less than pleased with him in particular. He recognized them all immediately, and in fact, had known many of them since they were tiny elflings, but that would not help him now. Now, they were accomplished warriors, born leaders, and well-practiced captains. They were some the deadliest Thranduil's army had to offer, and they were very clearly here for a single purpose.

"Come with us, Mithrandir."

He could get out of this situation if he so desired, but probably not without seriously harming at least one of the elves, and while he certainly did not want to speak to Thranduil at this present time he did not see another choice. So he stood, dusted himself off, and prepared to be taken to the Elvenking.

As he stood one of the elves passed the little hobbit what appeared to be a bowl of steaming soup, a cup of strong herbal tea, and a warm blanket to wrap around himself, "We are sorry for your loss." Then, bowing deeply to the tiny creature he returned to his ranks.

Without another word they turned, expecting the wizard to follow. Sometimes it was just better to get things over with than prolong the inevitable, "Eat your soup, dear Bilbo, I shall return shortly."

Then, he trailed after the troop of elves, eye registering their every slight limp and bloodstain of their robes and dents in their armor. It had been a fierce and bloody battle, not even the best the elves had to offer had gotten away free. It was no wonder so many dwarves and men had fallen.

They marched him across the frozen stones, and he ignored the harsh whispers and glares from the other elves that still milled around. Always, they would take their Kings side. Gandalf did not think in his living memory there was a society more loving and loyal to their rulers than the woodelves were to Thranduil and Legolas and Thranduil was obviously not pleased with him.

Finally, they came to a sudden stop before the flaps of a great white tent, the same tent he had taken council in earlier that day with Bard and the King. With a sigh the ancient wizard pushed past the tent flaps and into the much warmer space within.

A fire burned, the obvious source of the heat, yet the tent was almost completely empty otherwise. He was not an elf and did not have their eyesight and in the growing twilight, it was difficult to get a good look at Thranduil, who stood with is back to him and eyes gazing outward to the world outside.

Except, something was off with his presence.

He was good at concealing himself and his feelings, but he did not feel quite as imposing as usual, though he was clearly just as angry as Gandalf had expected him to be. It wasn't until the only other living thing in the tent turned to face him that he put two and two together.

It did not feel like the King, because it was not the King. It was the Prince.

There Legolas stood, every bit as large and proud as his father ever was. Back straight, eyes hard and face a mask of nothing. Usually, an air of brightness and laughter flowed around the prince, but today there was no such air. In fact, Gandalf was having trouble sensing anything from the elf at all. Another trick he had learned from his father, one of many he was sure.

For a moment, Gandalf faltered. He had been expecting Thranduil, had been certain he was being taken to the King but now that he stood before the young elf he was no sure exactly what to do. It was easy to forget, sometimes, exactly who the cheerful and fun-loving elfling was. A Prince and a warrior, an elf who had seen more horrors than many yet still laughed with the quickness and sincerity of a child. But he was not laughing now.

"Mithrandir."

"Legolas, I am so glad to see that you are well."

"Are you?"

Gandalf nearly got a chill form the ice in his voice, and found it quite evenness more unnerving than his father's tempter had ever been, "Yes. Of course."

"What of my people, Mithrandir, are you glad to see them well? The humans of Laketown?"

Gandalf was no fool, he knew when he was being set up, he just did not quite understand how, "I am glad to see everyone well that is well, and I hope that everyone who is not will soon be."

"And the dwarves?"

"Everyone, elfling. Everyone includes everyone."

"Prince. Not elfling."

Gandalf blinked in surprise, Legolas insisted almost, as a rule, to never be addressed by his formal titles. He disliked it greatly, and it was usually only humans he did not correct when they addressed him as such. He knew the young elf was angry with him, could sense it vibrating in the air around him and feel the cold leaking from his Fae. But he did not think he was quite this angry with him.

"Are their lives worth more than ours, Mithrandir?"

Usually, Gandalf would assume such a question was asked to make a point about something, but the sincerity in Legolas's voice startled him further, "I hold no lives above others, Legolas, you know this."

"I thought I did, but your actions as of late have led me to question what I once thought was fact."

"Legolas-"

"Or have you just grown thoughtless?"

Part of the wizard now wished he was dealing with the ElvenKing, at least then he knew what to expect. This situation was completely foreign territory and he was unable to even hazard a guess as to what was going to happen. It was not very often that he found himself floundering as such, and he wasn't a fan.

"What was it you expected to happen, waking a dragon? Did you even spare the people of Laketown a thought, or of us when you set those dwarves in to rile him?"

"All the signs led me to believe that he had passed on from this world-"

"Yet Elrond, Galadriel, and Saruman all disagreed with you and you disregarded their opinions like an ignorant child. Foolishly assuming you know better than everyone else, at all times, in situations where you are not even the one to deal with the repercussions."

Legolas was usually bursting with pent-up energy, getting him to stand or sit still was more trouble than it was worth, yet now he stood rooted in one spot with fists clenched against his sides. His bow and twin knives were still strung across his back, and Gandalf found himself wishing that they weren't.

"Do you know where Smaug would have gone had Bard not slain him? Dul Guldur. All of Greenwood, all of my people and everything we love would not have stood a chance against his flames. We would have been burnt to cinders in a day, our centuries of fighting and suffering would have been for nothing. And for what? So that a group of dwarves could have their treasures back?"

Finally, the young elf broke eye contact to gaze behind the wizard at something that was happening outside of the tent, leaving Gandalf feeling somewhat like a scolded child. The worst part was, that after everything that had happened he wasn't sure if he would be able to defend himself. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to either, Legolas' anger was so hard to inflict upon yourself that when you did, one could not help but feel as though they deserved it.

And Legolas had never, in all his years of life, been this angry with him.

Gandalf felt ashamed, he knew his reasons for this quest. For coming to Thorin in the first place. But he could also see how his actions looked from the outside, especially from the perspective of the woodleves. It would be many long years before he would be welcomed back to the Greenwood with open arms if he ever was at all. Thranduil was good with grudges, to begin with, and Gandalf knew what happened to those who upset his Greenleaf.

And he definitely fell into that category now.

Galion it appeared was what Legolas he become distracted by, as the butler come rushing into the tent. The look he gave the wizard could have turned water to stone, so withering it was, but other than that he gave no indication that the wizard existed, "Legolas, I'm sorry to interrupt, but your father needs you. Now."

Legolas nodded, once, and Galion nearly sprinted from the room again.

There was a sinking feeling in the wizards stomach as if he had swallowed several large stones, "Legolas, where is your father?"

If he thought Legolas' expression and demeanor had been cold before, it was nothing to how he appeared now, "He is with the healers. Along with the rest of my people who have been wounded in this battle you started."

Legolas let his words hang in the air for several minutes, to let them properly sink in. The effect was that Gandalf was nearly certain he had swallowed boulders and not stones, for how deep his stomach had sunk.

"Bilbo may remain for as long as he likes, and we will arrange for an escort back to Imladris should he choose to stay. But I want you out of my camp and my lands my sunrise, if you are not out, I will have you thrown out."

The Prince made to storm from the tent, slamming his shoulder into the Gandalf's as he went, yet he paused in the doorway, "Oh, and Mithrandir?"

He did not turn to see if he had the wizard attention, and so he gave a verbal response, "Yes?

"I would take this time to pray to whatever Valar might listen to you that I am still a Prince the next time you see me and not a King. For your sake."


	2. The Creature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fast note: This fic is movie verse 110%, and as such Aragorn and Legolas have not yet met one another. At the end of the Battle of the Five Armies, Thrandul tells him to seek out Aragorn with the ragners of the North. However, since in my story he was injured in the battle, Thrandul never told Legolas to go and find him, so they still have not met one another.

As chieftain he had visited many strange places, wandered into many unknown towns and kingdoms, and never had his nerves eaten at his stomach like they did now. Although, he was fairly certain he would have been just as calm and collected as usual had he not been in the company of Gandalf, who appeared ready turn and sprint back into the wilds behind them regardless of the massive pack of orcs who had been following them for many days.  He had visited many places, but he had never wandered here. 

“So this is Mirkwood.” 

Gandalf nearly blanched next to him, and a grimace took up residence on his face, “Yes, although I would not refer to it as such once we enter it. The Elves who call these woods home are a bit touchy about that. As far as you are concerned, it is Greenwood the Great.” 

Aragorn appraised the woods that loomed before them, there didn’t appear to be anything green or great about the woods, but he nodded his head anyway. Growing up in Imladris he had heard the story of the kingdom that was before them, heard the story of the great battle that had driven them into their mountain and the darkness that kept them there. He knew that it was now a very seldom happening that any wood elf ventured from their tree’s, and especially not to visit Imladris. 

His brothers had told him stories about when times were better, and the kingdoms could still consider one another friends rather than silent allies. If they could even still call themselves that. They had told him stories of their friend that lived there, Legolas, but he had never met him. Not so much as a letter had arrived from Mirkwood in the time he had lived there, and he doubted one had been sent since he had left either. 

Although the stories the twins had told them about his friend had been happy tales of childhood foolishness and laughter, he noticed that often their hearts grew heavy and their eyes sad when they spoke about him. They missed him dearly, that he knew, but there seemed to be an even darker reason for their downturned hearts. Aragorn was not eager to find out why. 

His foster father, generally speaking, refused to say anything about the kingdom, nor the elf who ruled it. But that did not stop other elves from whispering about the ElvenKing. Even Glorfindel, one of the most powerful elves that Aragorn would ever meet seemed to regard the ElvenKing with wary respect, although he too often refused to say anything about the topic. 

It was only Lord Celeborn who spoke highly of the ElvneKing, but never in front of his wife. All of that information, coupled with Gandalfs nearly palpable anxiety, nearly had him ready to run to the Orcs himself. It was only as the sack at his feet began struggling and screeching once again that kept his feet rooted where they were, “We could try and make it to the river. Float ourselves away so they lose our scent.” 

Gandalf shook his head, “No, it is only dumb luck that has allowed us to keep out of there reach this long. Besides, they could follow the darkness in that one” He indicated to the screeching sack with his chin, “From miles away. Could probably follow it right to us like the North Star.” 

“You are sure this is a good idea?” 

The wizard sighed but started stomping towards the path ahead of them nonetheless, “No.” 

Aragorn heaved the bag over his shoulder, wincing as the tiny but surprisingly strong creature attempted to kick, claw and bite at him once more. Had it not been for the light armor he wore it seemed likely his back would have never forgiven him for lugging this foul thing across the lands. Bilbo’s words echoed in his head as he trudged forward after the wizard. 

_ More dangerous and less wise. _

**_………………………………………………………………………………………………………………_ **

He had hoped Gollum would have exhausted himself into stillness long before this point, yet they had been walking down the elven road – if you could even call it a road - for several hours now and he still carried on as he had done before they had entered. They tried to gag him, but still his muffled screams seemed to echo in the angry dark silence that smothered them. 

Aragorn could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, at all times. Yet he could never spot any creature around them, which only made matters so much worse. He liked to see his enemies. As if sensing his thought Gandalf muttered beside him, “It’s the trees.” 

“The trees?”

As if hearing their words the woods around them rustled themselves, branches scraping against one another to make creaking sounds, yet Aragorn could have sworn there was no change in the wind. He was disliking the forest more and more with every step. 

Gandalf looked around them warily, “You have heard the tales of Fangorn?” 

He had heard the tales, of tree’s that could talk and move of their own accord if they so wished, although he himself had never dared enter those dark woods. Or even venture close to it, if he could help it. “Yes.” 

“It is not the only forest on Arda with a mind, eyes and ears of its own. Watch your step and your mouth.” 

He disliked this forest very much indeed. 

And then he stepped in something disturbingly soft and sticky buried beneath a large pile of discarded leaves, when he attempted to lift his foot once more he found it almost glued to the forest floor, he was only able to lift his food high enough to see that it was a sticky white liquid that trapped him. 

Gandalf let out a string of curses next to him and dispelled the goo, “Are you scared of spiders, Aragorn?” 

The human frowned, he was a man of the wilds, he slept on the ground with the bugs nearly every night, “No, of course not.” 

“You are about to be.” 

“What do you me-“ 

His question was interrupted by a horrid symphony of clicking sounds that seemed to surround them, and it was growing louder very quickly. Gandalf drew his sword, and Aragorn quickly followed, trying to figure out how he was going to fight whatever was coming while still keeping Gollum from escaping in such a tight space littered with roots and holes to trip in. 

“I implore you, do not let us die like this.” 

Aragorn wasn’t sure exactly who the wizard was talking to, but he knew it wasn’t him. His face was looking upwards to the tree’s, his arms spread out in a gesture that might have been surrender or perhaps an apology. 

He was about to ask exactly who he was talking to when the first spider dropped from the tree’s. 

Aragorn had never, in his life, been afraid of bugs. But the sight of the massive creature before nearly stopped his heart. It was nearly as big as a horse, and its pinchers looked incredibly capable of cutting him in half without an effort at all, and the stinger on the end of it would leave a hole bigger than a dinner plate. 

The creature hissed at him as more of his brothers dropped from the tree’s, bright hatred seemed to burn horribly in their eyes as they clashed their pinchers together menacingly. 

“Greenleaf,  _ please.”  _

Aragorn dropped Gollum to the ground to get a better grip on his sword, and prepared for one of the spiders to lunge forward. To his dismay, they all lunged forward simultaneously. But his sword was never swung, for the spiders began screaming in pain as black fletched arrows drilled into their eyes with perfect aim. 

Elves rained from the tree’s just a swiftly and unexpectedly as the spiders had, and with one glance upwards told him that there was just as many still in the branches of the tree’s with bows drown and arrows raining. 

An Elleth landed next to him and roughly shoved him the ground, it wasn’t until he collided with the ground and the air was knocked from his lungs that he realized it was to save his life, as pinchers closed around the spot exactly where he had been standing. 

The Elleth, unlike him, was prepared for the massive creature. As if out of reflex twin blades sliced across its face twice in a perfect ‘X’ before she stabbed it both on the top and bottom of its head. Black blood with a stench that nearly made his eyes water gushed from the wounds, and the giant creature fell to the earth with an incredible thud. 

The elf that saved him spun away, stabbing another spider in the eye with one blade, and cutting the legs of another with the other blade. Around him the rest of the elves were quickly making work of the spiders in similar fashions, he had never seen such ruthless and effective killing before. Had he not been so terrified he might have been impressed. 

Just as quickly as the spiders had appeared, they had been slain and all of the elves turned their keen eyes on him and the wizard, though none of them said a word. None sheathed their weapons, and those with bows still had an arrow knocked and at the ready should the need arise, Aragorn hoped there would be no need. 

When it became apparent none of the elves would speak to them, Gandalf broke the tense silence, “Avaleania, you have my deepest gratitude for the assistance.” 

The elleth who had shoved Aragron stalked over to the wizard and stopped at a distance that was obviously too close for comfort. She was significantly shorter than the wizard, but that did not seem to deter her in the slightest as she scowled at him with such intensity Aragorn wondered if she was trying to set him aflame, “I do not want your gratitude. You are not welcome here.” 

Aragorn cut his eyes over the wizard in panic from where he was still sprawled in a heap on the ground where he had fallen, Gandalf had never mentioned that he was not welcome here. This was most certainly not a realm where one traveled when they were not welcome, he did not have to have been here before to know that.

“I know, but I have urgent matters to dis-“ 

The elleth cut him off swiftly, “He has no interest in any of your matters.” 

“But-“ 

“Away with you, and take the human who treads so heavily with you.” 

Usually, Aragorn would have taken offence to such a comment. For a human he was incredibly light footed, a by-product of growing up with Elves where sneaking was much more difficult than in any human home. But considering their current situation, at the moment he did not think he would have even looked her in the eyes had she turned to him, and especially not attempt to defend himself.  

Gollum choose that moment to come to life once more with a foul scream, as he began kicking at the sack once more with all of his might. All eyes turned to the sack, and all arrows were pointed at it in preparation.

Avaleania narrowed her dark eyes at the sack with distaste, and then cut her eyes back to the wizard,  “What is that?” 

“That is Gollum. The matter I wished to discuss.”

If Aragorn thought her expression had been thunderous before it was nothing compared to the storm that brewed on it now, “I assume, then, that you are the reason such a large pack of Orcs were drawn to our borders from lands so far away?”

He had never hated a forest so much in his life. 

Gandalf did not reply, but his expression was telling enough. 

“Very well, he will wish to discuss matters with you then after all.” She turned away from the wizard and began stalking back towards the tree’s from which she had come from, “Bring them to the Stronghold, binde their hands if you wish, I care not.” 

**………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**

They had been standing in the throne room for what must have been hours by this point, and not heard so much as a whisper about when they might meet with the ElvenKing. Gollum had been taken away from them and whisked away to some unknown location under the mountain, and Gandalf found himself glad that at the very least the creature was no longer his problem. 

Food and wine had been delivered some time ago, and he knew that it was entirely for the benefit of Aragorn, had he been alone he would not have seen so much as a drop of water. It took all of his willpower to not pace back and forth across the room, he had tried since the day he had left the Woodland Realm after the battle to find out how Thranduil fared, but not even a whisper left the woods. They had closed themselves off from the world entirely, tighter than a clam and more silent than a calm night. For all he knew, Thranduil had died that day. 

Not even Elrond or his sons knew if he still lived or not, and Legolas had not replied to any of their letters either. 

Aragorn had tried asking him about what had happened between him and the wood elves, but he had waved the question away, now was not the time to discuss what had happened. The last thing he needed was to open old wounds, as he was treading on incredibly precarious eggshells as it was. He had half expected to be thrown in the dungeons to await his audience. 

Suddenly, the door on the far end of the room banged open and in stalked Legolas, appearing more like his father than even the last time he had seen him in that tent so many years ago, and he did not think that possible. 

“Is that the King?” Aragorn muttered quietly to his companion. 

“I  _ sincerely _ hope not.” If he was, things were about to go very badly for Gandalf, he had never known Legolas to make an empty threat. 

The elf came to a stop before the pair of them, eyes focused entirely on Gandalf and ignoring Aragorn entirely, which he knew the man was more than okay with. Though the elf was shorter than the wizard, as were most creatures on Arda, he still gave the distinct impression of looking down on him, “You are more foolish than I thought, and that is an impressive feat.” 

“Legolas, how is your father?” 

The young elf narrowed his eyes at him and tilted his head slightly to the side, “What evil creature have you brought us this time, and should we expect another army? Bigger than the pack or Orcs you have already led into our woods, that is.” 

So his anger had not lessened with him yet, that did not bode well in his favor. Although, if Thranduil truly had perished that night Gandalf assumed that Legolas would have already gone up one side of him and down the other, perhaps even resorting to a few blows, which meant that the King still lived. 

Or so he hoped. 

“He is not evil, just-“ 

“I do not enjoy being lied to, so I suggest you do not finish that sentence. I have been around enough evil to know it when I see it, and I have met your creature. However the choice is yours Mithrandir, continue if you wish.” 

Gandalf pursed his lips for a moment, unsure exactly what to say. They could not let the creature loose for he knew the location of the Ring, and the last thing anybody needed was for the Ring to be found by its master. With so much darkness already festering in these woods it would be impossible for the dark forces to track him here, no matter how hard they tried. But he did not wish to disclose that much information, it was a secret he did not want to tell anybody he did not have too. 

Of course, he also knew that Legolas would put two and two together and realize that Bilbo used the ring within the very walls of his home to free the dwarves, which woke the dragon. Thankfully, he was not wearing his weapons this time, although Gandalf strongly suspected he had several knives hidden on his person somewhere, and could use them with the same deadly accuracy. 

“His name is Gollum, and he must be hidden from the enemy.” 

Legolas barked out a strong but humorous laugh, “Then you have come to the wrong place, for that is all you will find here.” He turned promptly on his heel and began to leave the room just as quickly as he had arrived, “Take your creature and go. We are not puppets to be used when you need us, try Imladris and stop wasting my time.” 

Gandalf cast a desperate looked at Aragorn, who still stood silently near him. Oh how he wished for the happy, friendly, Legolas to return. Gollum needed to stay here, and there was only one way he was going to accomplish that, “He knows the location of the Ring.” 

Had he been anyone but an elf Legolas would have stumbled for how quickly he froze, then he whipped around once more, his eyes blazing more fiercely than the ones that had burnt Laketown to the ground, “And you brought him  _ here?  _ “ 

Perhaps he should have broken the news to him another way. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve  _ done?  _ You thoughtless, foolish, uncaring-“ Legolas cut himself off, struggling to voice his words around the building anger within him, “Have you forgotten that Dul Guldur still lies on our doorstep? Did the spiders not jog your memory?“ 

At the sounds of the beloved prince’s raised, angered and slightly panicked voice a small group of four elven archers entered the throne room, two of them with their knives already drawn. Avaleania was among them, and with a flick of her hand the other three retreated back out of the room while she leaned casually against a pillar, watching the proceedings with keen eyes. 

Legolas had stopped himself from continuing and stormed towards the wizard so fast and with such purpose Gandalf had to fight the urge to take a step back, “Who knows you have brought him here?” 

“No one.” 

Legolas’ eyes flashed dangerously, and he ground his jaw in irritation, “Lie to me one more time, Mithrandir.” 

“Only the Orcs who have chased us here, but that is only due to unfortunate luck in the mountains and not Gollum.”

“How many were there?” 

“Around-“ 

“No. Not around. Because of  _ you  _ my warriors must not track down every single one of those Orcs and ensure the knowledge of your deeds does not spread. How many.” 

“Sixty Three.” Aragorn spoke up for the first time, somehow managing to keep his expression neutral when crystal blue eyes turned to him stared deep into his essence, “The last time I counted a day or two ago.”

Legolas inclined his head, “You have my thanks, Aragorn son of Arathron.” With that he swept from the room, somehow faster than he had entered, bellowing orders neither guest understood to elves they could not see. With a dark look Avaleania pushed herself from the wall and followed him out.

Aragorn waited a few moments after the door was slammed shut once more, “How did he know who I was?” 

Gandalf had no answer to give him, somehow Thranduil always seemed to have information he should not have, and he yet to figure out how he accomplished it for someone who had no contact with the outside world. 

**………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**

It was several hours after that still when an elf who introduced himself as Galion had been sent to take them to see the King. Aragorn did not fail to notice that while the elf was perfectly pleasant to him, he entirely ignored the wizard.  He also did not fail to notice the glares and harsh whispers that seemed to haunt their wake throughout their journey across the elves underground home. 

After so much time spent travelling with Gandalf, he knew that it was not entirely uncommon for people or cities to have a distaste for him, the wizard was an acquired taste to say the least. But never had he seen him friend look so nervous about it. 

As they approached a set of huge wooden doors, which had the likeness of the forest outside cared carefully across the face of it, it banged open and two elves left the room. One of them was the elleth who had pushed him over earlier that day, but the other he did not recognize. Both had what could only be orc blood on spots of their clothing, he suspected they had just returned from hunting the orcs who had followed them here. 

Thankfully, both of them stormed by without a word. 

Galion knocked once on the still open door, “My King, the trespassers.” 

The King must have motioned for them to come in, or spoke too softly for him to hear because the next thing he knew Galion was ushering them inside. 

Legolas, the elf who supposedly starred in so many of his brothers stories, sat on the corner of a huge wood desk. He was still cald in lightweight armour that Aragorn assumed made it easier to get through the trees with his swords and bow still strapped to him, and crunching loudly on an apple. 

The desk belonged to who Aragorn could only assume was Thranduil, he had heard very little about the ElvenKing, yet somehow he still fit the image perfectly. The likeness between the two was considerable, and even if he had not known who they were he would have known they were father and son.     

Aragorn also did not fail to notice the cane that stood behind the desk near the King. He did not remember there ever being a mention of the ElvenKing using a cane, which struck him as odd, Elves were so rarely permanently injured that when it happened people usually took note of it. 

Legolas crunched into the apple and then the ElvenKing spoke, “Mithrandir, it has been sometime since I have seen you, considering you left so swiftly last time you were here. I am glad to see you are well.”

Aragorn could have sworn Legolas hid a smrik in another bite of the apple, while Gandalf drew himself up, “Thranduil-” 

“My King.” Legolas corrected, ignoring the unreadable look the ElvenKing gave him, “Your Highness. My Liege. Whichever you prefer.” 

He wizard sighed, but started over “My King, I am also very glad to see you well,  I have long wished to hear such news.” Aragorn did not fail to notice the way the way his friends eyes had rested on the cane while he spoke.

“One might even say you prayed for it.” The Prince commented with another crunch into his apple, without looking over the ElvenKing placed a very gentle hand on his son's arm for a moment before returning it to the arm of his own chair.

Gandalf looked like he was ready to scream, and then the older elf replied, “I hope you do not plan on making a habit of routinely bringing such distasteful creatures to my home every few decades.  I must admit, it is a game I will quickly tire from.”

When the wizard opened his mouth to respond the ElvenKing waved for silence before he even began, “I am not interested in your excuses. Just tell me what you want and why.”

“The Ring has been found, and Gollum knows the location of the one who currently possess it. It is imperative that he is kept out of the enemies reach, but with such darkness touching his soul the ringwraiths would be able to find him everywhere. Everywhere but here.”    

The King and his son exchanged looks, Legolas snorted in amusement, and a ghost of a smile lingered on the Kings lips before both of them turned their attention back to the wizard. Elves were not the easiest creatures to read to begin with, but even with his years of experience the two in front of him might as well been hunks of rock, for all he could sense from them. 

The ElvenKing leaned back in his chair, “That is answers the ‘why’, but not the ‘what.’” 

“I wish to ask you, to beg you if I must-” 

“That could be entertaining.” The ghost of a smile the King wore grew into a smirk at his sons quipe, but he waved for him to be silent nonetheless. 

Gandalf plowed on, ignoring Legolas’ comment entirely, “To keep him hidden here, in your dungeons where he cannot cause harm and cannot be found. At least until I can travel to the one who holds the Ring and get him to safety, for he does not know the great evil he possesses’ and will be unable to defend himself should they find him.” 

“And where, pray tell, will you be traveling to?” 

“I do not think that information need be-” 

“Then we are done here.” The King pulled a stack of parchements in front of him and directed his attention to the words scribbled on the pages, “Legolas, if you will.” 

Legolas lightly tossed the core of his apple into a nearby garbage and then jumped to his feet, “Of course, Adar.” 

The younger elf made to herd them forcefully from the room, but Gandalf, having realized he lost this particular match surrendered, “The Shire. I will be travelling to the Shire.” 

The Prince let out on of the most fake gasps of shock Aragorn had ever heard, and turned dramatically to face his father, “But Adar, is that not where our dear friend Bilbo Baggins comes from?” 

“Yes, Ion-nin, I do believe it is.” 

Two pairs of identical calculating blue eyes turned back to the incredibly uncomfortable looking wizard, who, to Aragorn's surprise, stayed silent. 

“Very well, Mithrandir, we will keep that foul little thing of yours here. But only because it is Legolas’ belief that attempting to remove him from our woods unnoticed would put our people in  _ more _ reckless danger. Recklessness that, unlike you, we can ill afford.” Thranduil sighed and shifted in his seat once more, had Aragorn not known better he would have said it was the shift of one who’s injury was causing them pain, but which they were attempting to conceal. 

Legolas looked away from the wizard and back to his father, his expression softening considerably for just a moment, until he turned back, “Out. The King is very busy, and you have wasted enough of his time.” 

Never before had Aragorn been ushered out of a room so swiftly, but just as the door was about to slam itself shut once more Gandalf wedged his foot in the door, “Will you ever forgive me, Greenleaf?” 

The elf regarded him with the kind of cool indifference that one might look at the muck stuck to the bottom of their shoe, “It seems unlikely.” And then the door was slammed shut in his face. 

**……………………………………………………………………………………………………………**

The two had been escorted out of the woods the next morning, leaving before even the sun had woken. They had been allowed to spend three days to rest, another courtesy Gandalf knew was only for Aragorn's benefit, but neither man nor wizard was keen on spending any more time in Mirkwood than they had to. 

They had travelled in silence the entire ride out of the forest, and several miles after that before Aragorn finally spoke, “I cannot believe that is the elf who the twins speak so highly of. He seems nothing like the stories they have told me, at all.”

Gandalf was silent for a few more long moments, “Do not judge him so harshly upon this meeting. Legolas cares very deeply and loves even deeper, unfortunately, that has been my downfall with him. Had I not been there, he would have been an entirely different elf.” 

“How so?”

The wizard sighed, he did not like to think about that particular conversation he had with him in the tent so many years ago, yet it still haunted him. Usually, late at night when he could not sleep, the raw sincerity he had heard that day still wounded his heart. “He holds be personally at fault for a tragedy that befell his people which caused much pain and sorrow. And for the harming of the only thing on Arda that he loves and cares for more than his people: His father.” 

“And is it? Your fault?” 

Gandalf's voice was much softer than he had meant it to be, and he winced at the crack in it when he replied, “Yes.” 


	3. The Story

Gandalf had to admit he was glad that moments after his arrival, the twins had whisked Legolas off into the wilderness for an additional week before returning him once more. To his surprise at the time, both Elrond and Glorfindel were just as confused with the secrecy between the three young elves, for even the twins would not tell their father anything before departing with all haste. They had gone without even saying goodbye to Estel.

 

Glorfindel had grown tired with everyone speculating weather or not they would finally explain themselves when they did finally return; he made this known when he glowered at Estel and Lindir over the top of his book one evening, “It does not matter what we think, and continuing to discuss it will not get anybody anywhere. They will tell us if they wish to tell us, or they will not. Some secrets are meant to be kept, and I suspect they have been keeping it for some time already.” 

 

Now, the wizard suspected he was about to find out what exactly the twins had told their father upon their return, for he had been called to the Lords study later the same day of their return. He had not suspected, however, that it would be Legolas alone waiting for him there. 

He paused in the doorway, unsure if he was ready for another encounter with the young prince, but he stepped fully into the room anyways. If Legolas had more to say to him, he would hear it. 

 

Legolas seemed considerably more relaxed and calm than the wizard has seen him in a century, “Mithrandir, I was hoping you might have a word with me. I feel like I owe you a explanation, greater than the one you already have.” 

 

It was also the first time he had seen him completely unarmed, and so Gandalf found himself cautiously agreeing. “Yes, of course.” 

 

The elf waited until he crossed the room ad sunk into the armchair across from the one Legolas was using, “Have you ever been bitten by one of the spiders in Greenwood?” 

 

“I’ve never had the pleasure, no.” 

 

“And I hope you never do.” Legolas paused in thought, and Gandalf considered this a good sign, true to Oropher’s line the only time his tongue got away from him was when he was angry. “There are three saving graces when it comes to them: One, they like their food warm. Two, they don’t like to share. Three, there is too much light in us for them to eat right away.” 

 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know exactly that all of that added up to mean, but suspected Legolas was going to tell him anyways, “Generally that means that if you're lucky enough to be captured by a spider, and not an Orc, the others have about two days to find where they have stashed you away from Dul Guldur to let the poison set in, and retrieve you.”

Gandalf was reminded of how volatilely Gollum reacted whenever he touched or even saw something that was obviously touched with Elvish light, he did not wish to ponder what pain darkness pierced into the immortal bodies would feel like. Darkness that was created with no other purpose than to burn out the light.

 

“Whoever thinks them unintelligent have obviously not spent any more than a minute in their eight legged company. They can speak, you know, and given enough time working with the Orcs they will learn their language too. At first they did not know that we also have a reasonable grasp of the Orcs languages.”

 

Gandalf was reminded of one particularly dark part of Bilbo’s tale in Mirkwood when he was forced to use his tiny blade. “ _ It stings! It stings!”  _

 

“Sometimes, if we were lucky enough to find the cave in time, and get our people an antidote in time they have some interesting eavesdropped information. We began to hear whispers of a rising master beyond the borders of the forest, far away but growing stronger, somebody we knew. They mocked us for it.” 

 

He thought about asking the young prince why he or Thranduil had not brought up the information with the White Council, or even just to Elrond. But even before the desolation of Smaug the relations with everyone and Mirkwood had been strained; for many reasons not easily fixed.. 

 

Thranduil had held well known - and spoken about -  suspicions that the great battle which took his father and crowned him King was only just the beginning. But the others had been wishing for peace for so long that they did not listen to him, blamed their vulnerability to such tragedies like the one that stole the Queen away on his lack of a Ring. With a rift like this, there are any number of grievances to be born. 

 

Slowly, and quietly, the Woodland Realm had slipped into a wall of silence. First, Imladris no longer received visitors, even Legolas stretched the distance between his own visits longer and longer apart. Then the letters stopped coming, and not many were replied to. A few more years after that, most visitors were turned off the Elven road, told to come back the way they came, and none dared stray from it. 

 

Even Elladan and Elrohir were turned away, supposedly on Legolas’ orders. They would not speak of it though, not even to their father, so wounded their hearts had been.  

 

They had all blamed Thranduil's temper, his resentment and grudges. It was easier.  

“I was going to tell you the next time I came upon you, Ada did not want me to, but I was going to anyways. And then dwarves woke Smaug, under your guidance.” 

 

And Thranduil was injured. 

 

Legolas grew silent for a moment, the wizard wasn't sure if it was to make a point or collect himself. Either way, he waited for him to continue, “I do regret some of the things I said to you that day, in the tent. But every time I thought of my father, or my warriors, or the people of Laketown all I could hear was that voice in my head taunting that it was someone I knew helping to construct this darkness.” 

 

He wasn’t sure what to say, but he felt he ought to try and say something.

 

However, the elf continued before he could think of anything, “And there you stood, when so many could did not. When even my Ada could not open his eyes, nor recognize my voice. I have never been so scared in my life, Mithrandir. I had never been so angry, or felt so betrayed” 

 

Unlike that night in the tent Legolas was restless, his hands were clasped together but Gandalf could still see where he tapped rhythms softly into his hands with his fingers, “What happened to Thranduil?” 

 

Legolas shook his head softly, and broke eye contact for the first time since Gandalf had entered the room and it was only to blink tears from his eyes, “I don’t know, I tried not to but I lost him in the battle, everything was so hectic. I thought he was dead when I found him, so still and cold he was. So much of his blood lost.” 

 

He paused and looked down at his hands, as if he half expected to find them coated in blood once more. “The healers took him away from me before I even knew what was happening, and nobody would let me go near. Galion had to wash his blood off of me, I couldn’t… I just couldn’t.” 

 

The young elf sighed and wiped one of his eyes, Gandalf pretended not to notice, “I did not intend to say everything I did that night, when I called for you. I just wanted to know  _ why.  _ But the longer I stood there, in my father's tent wondering about him, the worse it got. The worse  _ I  _ got.”

 

“It took him months to recover enough strength to even be coherent for longer than ten minutes. When Lady Galadriel banished the Necromancer from Dul Guldur, she only banished him. She did not banish his army that had taken up residence, only angered them, and as a consequence the forest took more out of my father than ever before. He could not heal himself like he should. He still hasn’t been able to, but he won’t give less of himself to the forest. No matter how many times I beg him to, or beg him to allow me to share the burden, he won’t.”  

Gandalf wished to say he was surprised, but he was not. He and Elrond had long ago realized that Thranduil was giving more and more of himself to the woods over the years, you could sense the King no matter where in the woods you wondered if you had the sense to look for him. Neither were quite sure how he did it, and Thranduil never explained. Gandalf and Elrond often discussed how thankful he had never taught Legolas, even if it pained the young prince. 

 

“I did not know what to do, or who I could trust, and I did not think I could tell one of you without somebody else finding out. You and Elrond cannot keep things from Galadriel, nor can you from Saruman, try as you might. I was so lost and confused, and Ada could not help me. So if I did not know who I could welcome…” 

 

“You made everyone unwelcome.” 

 

Legolas gave a small nod, “It was all I could think of. It became important that no one could know anything about our struggles or tactics for we did not know who might whisper it in the ears of those who could bring our ruin. Knowingly or not.”

 

“So when we brought Gollum to you-” 

 

“An act, sort of. Well not an act, but an exaggeration. ”

 

A long silence stretched out between them, Legolas seemed to be satisfied with giving Gandalf the opportunity to excuse himself and leave if he wanted for the prince had said his peace. For a moment he thought about staying silent in hopes of forcing Legolas to say more to fill his silence, however, it seemed half the conversations one had with Thranduil was silene so he did not think it would have the same effect as it did on others.  

 

But he did not wish for his only good conversation with the Prince in the last century to be over just yet, so Gandalf settled for what he hoped would be an innocent enough question to not get himself in trouble, “How did you know it was Aragorn that day?” 

 

A small, good natured smile broke out across the elfs lips, “Elladan and Elrohir are filled with more determination than you and Elrond give them credit for. Try as we might, no matter how many times we threw them out of the woods they returned. Eventually we had no choice but to allow them in, and they would not leave until I told them everything and swore to write them in secret.” 

 

Gandalf couldn’t help but give a surprised and delighted laugh, endlessly pleased with both the twins display of fierce loyalty and love, and the ability to keep such a secret from their father, “Truly?” 

 

Legolas’ smile grew, “Yes, I asked Yavanna to help us and a Hawk that knew well how to fly between Imladris and my home came to me. There was a spot in the woods he would leave the letters and come to retrieve them. They said they would try and find out who the master from beyond the woods could be, and let me know when Greenwood could return to the world.” 

 

There was another long pause before Legolas continued again, “I’m sorry about Saruman.”

 

“Yes. So am I.” Another pause, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, “I am sorry about your father.” 

 

Legolas nodded and his eyes wandered over to the fire, he seemed tired, “I do not hate you, Mithrandir. In fact, I no longer hold any anger towards you at all, and wish to consider you a friend once more. But I still have not forgiven you, and I do not think I will be able to until Ada his healed and whole once more.” 

 

Considering everything he had just heard, he figured that was reasonable enough for the time being, “Fair enough, elfling.” 

 

Legolas smirked,  a much happier one than he had seen in Thranduil's office, “Prince elfing, to you.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Gandalf hadn’t been sure if he should come, regardless of the fact he had been invited by Legolas himself. Actually, at first he planned to stay as far away from whatever celebration they were having as he could get, but Celebrain had given him no choice. He was comforted by the fact that Elladan and Elrohir had apparently been here since early afternoon after hearing the wood elves incredibly loud and joyful music on a horse ride with their parents earlier in the day. 

 

Neither parent could say they were particularly surprised, although now it sounded like Celebrain had decided to go as well. She had claimed it was to check on her son's wellbeing, but Gandalf still had the distinct impression that she just wanted to watch whatever happened when Thranduil finally got ahold of him. Glorfindel offered to escort her too quickly for his liking either.    

 

Elrond had decided to stay behind, and the wizard called him a coward on his way out, for he had yet to see Thranduil either since allowing Legolas to join the fellowship in the first place.  

 

This would be the first visit he had made to Thranduil's realm in Valinor. It would be the third time in total he had seen the great king at all, since his arrival to the blessed lands. The elf had not yet been healed and strong enough to bother hunting him down the years before Gandalf had sailed west, now however, he was very much alive and well. And angry. 

 

Much do Gandalf’s immense relief, the other two times he had seen Thranduil on this side of the ocean he had been with his beloved wife, and had been too caught up with her to do anything except give him a cold stare. A silent but deadly warning that ‘ _ Later,’  _ would be a very unpleasant time. 

 

Surprisingly, the king was not even upset with Gandalf on his own behalf, for the great wound and suffering that plagued his last years in Middle Earth. No, it was much worse than that. He was angry with the wizard on his son's behalf. Legolas had never wanted to be king, but thanks to the injuries his father suffered, he had been more or less forced to be one. 

 

Gandalf arrived to the celebration nearing midnight as the hastily scrawled invitation had asked. There was not a doubt in his mind that the wood elves had attracted enough attention from  those outside their forest half a day ago with their meeriment, judging by the state of some of them. The celebrations of Greenwood in Middle Earth had been well known for a reason, often held without any actual reason other than they wanted to. But here in Valinor, where so many were being reunited with their loved ones with no risk of them being stolen away again, they had much to celebrate. And it showed.

 

He would not have been surprised if they never stopped their celebrations. 

 

There were dozens of fires burning brightly through the forest, with candles in lanterns hanging from all the tree’s in such a plentiful number the almost looked like blossoms. Loud music was playing from somewhere deeper in the tree’s, not the kind one would hear in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell, but the much more lively tunes of the Silvan Elves. The kind of music that was not meant to tell stories of epic battles or long lost loves, it was not meant for official and stiff dances, it was meant to lift even the heaviest of hearts and keep up with the wood elves as they danced, ran, and played beneath their trees and stars.  

 

An elf melted away from the trunk of a tree, where he had been hiding so well in the shadows even Glorfindel had not noticed him, “Ah! Mithrandir, we were not sure if you were going to come.” He pressed a hand against his heart and bowed his head, “Lord Glorfindel, Lady Celebrian you are always welcome among our people.” 

 

There weren’t words that could convey how relieved the wizard was that it was another younger servent that had been sent to greet them, and not Galion, who cared so deeply for the royal family that he might as well have been apart of it as this point. And he did not take kindly to those who injured his king, or brought heartbreak and distress to his prince. Plus, he was the one who would have had to deal with all of Thranduil’s horrid moods due to the pain of his injuries and initial helplessness. 

 

It seemed very likely that even with the eternity spreading out before them that Galion might never forgive him, or lose his anger. 

 

“One can not exactly refuse a personal invitation from Prince Legolas, but it is my pleasure to attend nonetheless.” 

 

Behind him Celebrain snorted, well aware that he had fully intended to not come at first, linking arms with Glorfindel she commented, “Yes, it would be in very poor taste indeed for one to ignore such a gracious invitation, wouldn’t it Glorfindel?”

 

“Yes, incredibly so. Especially given the certain - history - with our dear Prince Legolas.” 

 

“It is  _ such  _ a good thing our dear friend has such impeccable manners.”

 

“It really is.”  

 

Gandalf glared at them openly, while the two elves merely laughed off his disgust easily. They were having too much fun with this already. 

 

“If you will follow me, I shall take you to the prince.” 

 

The elf set off without another word, trusting the three of them to follow him through the twists and turns of their new forest home. All about them the wood elves continued with their celebrations, dancings, singing, and playing around to their heart's content. It was a beautiful sight to see. 

 

It took them several minutes to reach what he assumed was the center of the celebration, judging by the size of this fire, and the fact there were several tables weighed down with impressive amounts of food and wine in the clearing as well. The crowds here was much thicker than it had been other places in the woods, but more of them were sitting in clusters on the ground happily enjoying one another's company, and the lively music. 

 

The sight in found in the clearing was far more beautiful than anything Gandalf had seen on his walk through these enchanted tree’s. 

 

Thranduil and Mereneth, the great and caring King and Queen of these woods were dancing among the others in the clearing. Eyes only for each other, and a smile was painted on Thranduil's face the likes of which Gandalf had not seen him wear in a millenia. Whatever injury he had suffered seemed to be finally healed, judging by the speed in which they twirled and danced about, with no cain in sight. 

 

There was also something about the ElvenKing that Gandalf had not seen in quite some time, peace and calmness. A deep sense of both radiated off of him, and his light shawn brighter than ever. Finally, after all these years, all his power was for himself. Every inch of his light was within his body and not spread throughout a withering forest, his mind only on the the executive elleth in front of him, and not a thousand places at once. 

 

Was this what Legolas had wanted him to see? 

 

Near him Celebrain sniffed, and wiped at her eyes, clearing seeing everything Gandalf was and probably more. She had always known Thranduil better than both the wizard and her husband, and after knowing the pain he suffered everyday after the loss of the love of his life, it was no surprise her compassion, love, and happiness for her friend had filled her with tears. She was a gentle creature, Celebrain. 

 

A near shriek of laughter that he had never quite grown out of, much to his father's delight, announced the arrival of Legolas. He and his friends raced back into the clearing, all soaking wet and he realized they must have been playing or swimming in one of the nearby pools, but all completely unfazed by how drenched they still were. Without giving Thranduil time to anticipate his actions, the young elf darted over to the King and nearly threw himself onto his father's back, effectively soaking him. 

 

Thranduil gasped in shock, and Legolas released his grip to collapsed onto the ground in a fit of laughter, Mereneth quickly joining in on her sons’ mirth, “You looked warm, Ada, I thought you might like some help cooling down.” Legolas managed around his laughter. 

 

In a painfully fluid motion, Thranduil grasped a piture of water of the nearest table, “Allow me to return the favor, my dear Greenleaf.” And with a wicked grin, he poured the freezing ice water over his son’s head. 

 

Except the king made one vital mistakes, he took his eyes off of his wife. Who rose to her sons defense and poured her own jug of freezing water over her husband's head, collapsing next to Legolas in the grass in a fit of her own laughter at the look Thranduil gave her. 

 

Legolas raised a first into the sky, “I have been avenged!” 

 

“And I have been betrayed! By my own beloved  _ wife.”  _ Thranduil poured every ounce of faked hurt and betrayal into his voice that he could muster, which was not much, since he as fighting off his own laughter. 

 

“I’m not sorry.” Mereneth told him, struggling to compose herself. 

 

“I did not suspect that you would be.” Thranduil sniffed, while he helped her from the grass regardless, and promptly gave her a crushing embrace. She nearly shrieked as the ice water soaked into her dress too. 

 

What a beautiful sight indeed. 

 

Galion appeared out of thin air and scuttled his way over to the royal family, something identifiable in his hands, stepping over Legolas who was still cackling merrily on the grass, and had a few words with Thranduil before scuttling off again. After a several more moments, in which Legolas finally managed to compose himself and get to his feet once more, the lively music came to a halt and a drum was beat four times. 

 

Wordlessly the wood elves began to converge on the clearing, as if anticipating something. The air was alive with excitement and good cheer. 

 

Carefully Legolas climbed atop of the highest table that he could and held up his hands for silence, which descended so swiftly and effectively Gandalf might have thought it a spell, “And now, the moment we have all been waiting so many years for!” 

 

A great cheer rose from the crowd, as they call clapped and hallered wildly. 

 

Thranduil raised his great cane into the air, as high as it could go, and another wild cheer ripped through the night. He walked around the great fire burning in the middle of the clearing, and came to stand on the opposite side from the table Legolas perched upon. 

 

“Are you ready?” He asked his people, who somehow managed to scream louder than the other two times. 

 

Swiftly he brought the cane down on his knee, snapping it effectively in half, and Gandalf winced at the strength he must have used to accomplish that. Wordlessly he tossed half of it to Legolas, he caught int easily, though he looked completely stunned at the gesture.

“Long has this infernal but necessary piece of wood haunted my life, my sons, and Galion’s.” A rumbled of laughter went through the crowd, and Galion raised his hands in thanks for the acknowledgement of his suffering, “But no longer! I thank all of you for being here to witness its glorious demise!” 

 

The cheering began once more, until Legolas held his hands up once more, one still grasping half of his fathers cane, “Are you sure you’re ready?” 

 

In response the woodland realm began a chanted countdown from ten, once they got to one, Legolas and Thranduil tossed both halves of the cane into the fire with grins so wide it might have split their faces. 

 

The cane light on fire instantly, and nobody cheered louder than Legolas. Nobody.

 

Jumping down from the table he raced over to his father and threw his arms around his neck, seemingly expecting this reaction Thranduil caught him easily and hugged him fiercely. After several moment he set his son back on the ground, placed both hands on his face and said one of the most sincere, ‘Thanks yous’ Gandalf had ever seen. Even if he could not hear it. 

 

Legolas’ ears burned a bright scarlet color, and it appeared as if he attempted to shrug off his father's praise, but Thranduil would not allow such a thing.  Raising his voice he spoke to the crowd once more, “And while we’re here, allow me an extend a much more official appreciation for everything that Legolas did for me during those years, for taking over all of my duties so wonderfully and making the best of a terrible situation. So thank you, my little leaf, you have far exceeded every expectation I have ever had for you, and I a forever grateful that you are my son. And I swear that I will do everything in my power to keep you from being a King ever again.” 

 

“Thank the Valar.” Legolas sighed, and the crowd laughed. 

 

Somebody shouted a toast that Gandalf didn't quite catch, but he raised a glass along with the other anyways.

 

Legolas lifted his own cup after and elbowed his father in the ribs, and then both his and Thranduil's eyes were resting on the wizard, “To friendship and forgiveness.” 

 

As the others took a drink, both Legolas and his father gave a long-distance ‘cheers’ in Gandalf's direction before taking a drink. The celebration began with even more exuberance than before, and the ancient wizard felt the final darkness and pain from Middle Earth leave his heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you liked this, and want to read the same AU from the Wood Elves point of you keep an eye out for the upcoming "Throwing Stones"


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